


☾ you are a memory of ancient buildings, crumbling away in pieces

by hauntednakano (battlecities)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, alternative universe, connections that transcend realities, purposeful lack of capital letters, slight Puzzleshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battlecities/pseuds/hauntednakano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a world that might have been</p>
            </blockquote>





	☾ you are a memory of ancient buildings, crumbling away in pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [♕](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/67248) by scarecrowings. 



> 千年 is sennen (jp), or qian nian (ch), trans. eng — millennium  
> you should read [♕](http://killuangel.tumblr.com/post/80023595353/universe-1-atem-tracing-the-word-aibou-into) as this short piece was inspired by that one, which is particularly beautiful

atem grows up paint speckled and sharp eyed, with a cool poise that never quite suites his stature, be it as a child of eight years or a gangly teenager. his first painting is a blob of yellow and brown, straight black lines sloping towards the vertex, which sits off the edge of the page and onto the newspaper padding below. without knowing why, he sneaks the newspapers into his bag along with the rest of the painting. it stays in his room for 13 years, before a house fire claims it as it’s own.

in his dreams, he sees ferocious creatures howling at him, eyes blazing red and gold. they start at seven. the first time, a scream catches in his throat as he wakes. he doesn’t call for his mother, let’s the scream settle back into his chest, his body aching.

later, he learns a name for the ache. _sorrow_. it tastes bitter on his tongue, and reshapes the form of the emptiness inside, makes it bearable, nameable. he holds it in, hiding it behind easy smiles and opaque confidence. 

the creatures in his dreams have no compunctions. their voices echo throughout the day, as if the nights were for screaming into the cave of his body. sometimes he remembers snapshots — glimpses, moments of feeling.

he picks up his first can of spray paint at fifteen and leaves at seventeen when his father finds the paint cans, connects it with the tired look in his eyes. atem doesn’t look back.

seventeen is when he gets his first car. it’s a beat up truck, the paint peeling and worn in places. he doesn’t fix it up. most days, it looks like how he feels. 

fifteen is when he makes his first piece of graffiti art, a blue skinned magician and his blonde apprentice, grace and mischief. he paints it on the steel gate of a courtyard in a quiet alleyway leading away from chinatown, and marks it with 千年, the characters sharp and blocky. it takes him hours, meticulously blending colours and lines until it seems as if their staves sprung out from the wall. after he’s done, he sits on the dirty pavement watching the magicians stare back at him.

the monsters inside quiet a little.

the boy bakura follows him along most days, draping himself half over the truck window. his lazy smiles do nothing to soften the hatred that pushes against atem. atem minds, but can’t bring himself to change anything.

bakura too, knows the taste of sorrow.

autumn, and there are dead leaves, golden and orange, drifting in the murky river water. atem spray paints the word _aibou_ under a bridge, again and again, carving the taste of the word onto his tongue. 

[atem has never met anyone named yuugi and he has never called anyone aibou, but he knows enough to do this.](http://killuangel.tumblr.com/post/80023595353/universe-1-atem-tracing-the-word-aibou-into)


End file.
